


A Good Boy

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, Don't deny it, Euro 2016, FC Barcelona, Football | Soccer, Insults, International Break, La Liga, Lies, M/M, Portugal National Team, Real Madrid CF, Rivalry, Team Bonding, Team Fluff, Team as Family, gomessi, it's a thing, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: "What?" André asks, having a feeling that a line has just been crossed. “Are you talking shit about me? Say it to my face." He leans forward, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Go on, say it."Someone turns off the television, and most people are quick to leave. But over the sound of their hasty exit, Pepe laughs and says, “Nah, man, not about you. About him.” André takes a deep breath, knowing he’s turning red. “What about him?”Pepe laughs again, takes another draw of his beer and then slams it down on the table. He ignores the way that Cristiano is tugging on his shirt and urging him to be quiet. "Enough, Cris," Pepe growls, standing up. "I said, that Lionel Messi, welcomed you with open *something* alright--but it wasn't his arms."





	1. Chapter 1

Portugal beats the Faroe Islands 6-0 and André's still basking in the win hours later. It’s always nice to play with the national team, though he has to admit that he's ready to return to Barcelona.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch," Pepe says suddenly, out of nowhere, as a group of them sit in the lounge and watch a little television before their flights out the next morning. He leans down and takes a sip of his beer, eyeing André across the room, ignoring the way Cristiano has just hit him on the arm.

It's such a little comment, and it probably doesn't mean anything, but André finds that it bugs him.

"What do you mean?" André asks, since it's clear from Pepe's gaze that the other man is talking to him. "Why would I have lost my touch?" He furrows his brows as he thinks about how he had played. It's true he hadn't scored or anything, but he hadn't done too badly--he'd even assisted Cristiano against Andorra.

Nani sighs and lets his head thunk against the wall. "Not this again," he mutters, closing his eyes. "Dude, let it go."

Pepe tilts his chin. "You know what I mean," he says, setting his beer down on the table and settling back into the couch. "Just what I said. I'm glad you haven't lost your touch. I thought you might."

"You mean, because I'm at Barcelona," André says slowly, as if it'll give Pepe time to take it back. But his teammate merely stares at him, and André feels a little anger starting to bubble up inside of him. "Well, I haven't," he says cooly, the high from the win starting to wear off.

There's a moment of silence, with the noise from the television the only thing heard in the room.

"I didn't think you'd be like this," André eventually says. "Why do you have to be like this? Why do things have to change? I'm happy at Barcelona. It's making me a better player." He's angry, very angry, that he has to explain to someone that he thought was his friend. "They're helping me... It's not--," he stops abruptly, not sure of what he wants to say.

Nani is muttering something under his breath and the rest of his teammates are starting to look really uncomfortable. Pepe looks nonplussed, like André's anger is something he expected.

"You like him," Cristiano says then. He's got his arms crossed, feet up on the table in front of him. There's a water bottle beside him, but other than that, he's not having anything to drink. He's been rather quiet all night, but it had seemed more like fatigue than anything else.

"I like all of them," André says honestly. "I," he says, shaking his head before beginning again. "They're good people. You know them--Iniesta, Piqué, Alba--they're great." He thinks of the way the team's embraced him and made him one of them so quickly... "I like all of them," he says again softly.

Cristiano sighs. "No," he says gently. "You like *him*. You like Messi."

André blinks at him. "I--," he says, trying to figure out if this is the issue. "Yes, of course." He stares at Cristiano. "He's likable." He hesitates, looking at Pepe and then back at Cristiano. "He congratulated me, you know," André says earnestly, finally deciding that it's not a secret. "For the Euros. He was happy for me, happy for Portugal." He purses his lips. "He was happy for you, too, you know. He said he was glad that you had won. That you deserved it."

Cristiano shifts, seeming frustrated.

"Of course he did," Pepe says, taking another sip of his beer. "He's always such a *good boy*."

André shakes his head, trying not to say something he's going to regret. "Leo welcomed me with open arms, and you know what, none of it was fake."

Pepe murmurs something under his breath that makes Nani thunk his head against the wall and say, "Oh Jesus."

"What?" André asks, having a feeling that a line has just been crossed. “Are you talking shit about me? Say it to my face." He leans forward, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Go on, say it."

Someone turns off the television, and most people are quick to leave. But over the sound of their hasty exit, Pepe laughs and says, “Nah, man, not about you. About him.”

André takes a deep breath, knowing he’s turning red. “What about him?”

Pepe laughs again, takes another draw of his beer and then slams it down on the table. He ignores the way that Cristiano is tugging on his shirt and urging him to be quiet. "Enough, Cris," Pepe growls, standing up. "I said, that Lionel Messi, welcomed you with open *something* alright--but it wasn't his arms."

André stands up, too. “What the fuck did you just say?”

"That's right," Pepe says glaring. "He's a huge slut. You know you're not the first, right? You know that he bends over for all the new signings?" He shrugs. "Gives them a little something, to make them feel like they belong, to make them feel like they're special... I bet you couldn't believe your luck."

André can't believe what he's hearing, but Pepe's gaining steam.

"How'd he get you, huh?" Pepe asks, leaning over the table. "Was it after training one day? Just came on to you in the shower? Or maybe in the locker room--just let you bend him over the back of the bench? I heard he sits next to you.”

"What?" André says, taking another step forward.

“Does his ass feel as magical as it looks?” Pepe asks, tilting his chin up challengingly. “I can’t think of why you’d be so stupid, otherwise. Hope you used a rubber.”

The table is between them, but it's not going to be for long. "Shut up," André says, pointing a finger at Pepe. "You take that back--take it all back," he orders, Pepe's face swimming in front of him.

Nani and Cristiano stand too. Cristiano grabs hard onto Pepe's arm while Nani comes over to stand next to André.

"Think you're the first?" Pepe asks, even as Cristiano starts to drag him away. "What do you think happened to Villa? To Ibra? To countless others? They’ve all fucked him—and when he was finished with them, Barcelona got rid of them.” He starts yelling as Cristiano pushes him out of the room. "He'll do it to you, too! Just wait--you'll be sorry! That fucking whore--!"

The door swings shut behind them, cutting off whatever else Pepe is trying to say.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> André doesn't think about it again.
> 
> Because it's not true. He's sure that none of it is true. He laughs, trying to imagine Lionel Messi getting fucked by all of Barcelona's signings and then the club just getting rid of them after Messi was finished with them. Like Messi waved his hand, like he’s some kind of dictator.
> 
> The idea is absurd.
> 
> André goes back to Barcelona and throws himself back into training. He plays basketball with Arda during downtime. Goes out to eat with Sergi. Plays cards with Marc.
> 
> Lucho takes him aside and tells him he watched Portugal's games. Congratulates him on the wins. Tells him to keep up the good work.
> 
> So no. André doesn't think of it again.
> 
> He doesn't.
> 
> Until Leo returns to training.

André doesn't think about it again.

Because it's not true. He's sure that none of it is true. He laughs, trying to imagine Lionel Messi getting fucked by all of Barcelona's signings and then the club just getting rid of them after Messi was finished with them. Like Messi waved his hand, like he’s some kind of dictator.

The idea is absurd.

André goes back to Barcelona and throws himself back into training. He plays basketball with Arda during downtime. Goes out to eat with Sergi. Plays cards with Marc.

Lucho takes him aside and tells him he watched Portugal's games. Congratulates him on the wins. Tells him to keep up the good work.

So no. André doesn't think of it again.

He doesn't.

Until Leo returns to training.

André sits there silently, in the locker room, watching as Leo opens his locker. It's not anything unusual. If anything, things are more upbeat since the doctor gave the okay for Leo to start training with the group. Aleix is blasting music, Neymar is dancing around in his socks, Ivan is telling awful jokes...

But André's eyes keep going back to Leo.

Leo had smiled at him and greeted him with a hug when he’d entered, had never made any mention of Portugal or international break. He’d just been happy to see André.

The feeling had been mutual.

Luis is now leaning beside their number ten, telling some story about his kids while sipping on mate every other second. Leo is nodding, looking only half awake, stripping off methodically. As Luis chatters on, he hums in agreement while hanging first his jacket and then his shirt up on the hooks in his locker.

André’s eyes skim down Leo's back, pausing on the dimples at the base of his spine. And then, just below, is—

"Are you even listening?" Luis asks suddenly, rapping his hand on the metal locker.

André jerks his head up, blushing furiously, thinking Luis is calling him out. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain how he’s ogling his teammate. But thankfully Luis is still looking at Leo and so André lets out a deep breath, utterly relieved.

Luis laughs as Leo looks up at him blearily. "You used to like my stories, you know," Luis says, slurping as he finishes his mate. "It's like the magic is gone," Luis whines, resting his head on Leo's shoulder and fluttering his eyelashes.

Leo laughs, shaking him off. "Fuck off," he says, sitting down on the bench so he can take off his sneakers, and then his jeans. “Go bother someone else. I’m tired of you.”

"I know what you want," Luis says, sitting down next to Leo. There isn't really room for the both of them on the red block, and Luis lets his leg press against Leo's companionably. “Poor baby. So needy.”

André, who had been in the middle of putting on his boots, finds that he's unable to look away. His mouth goes dry, heart starting to beat faster as he tries to understand what he's seeing. Because it can't be true. It can't.

But Luis is a relatively new signing... And he's still here... Always talking about how much he loves Leo...

"Then shut up and give it to me," Leo says, raising his eyebrows and leaning back on his hands. He spreads his thighs and sighs. It draws André's attention to the bulge in those black briefs. "I don't think I can get through training without any,” Leo murmurs as he tips his head back to look at the ceiling.

André starts coughing violently.

He ducks his head into his elbow, choking on nothing as he coughs and coughs, tears streaming from his eyes. After a minute he discovers he's able to breathe again, and he focuses on taking huge shuddering breaths, ignoring the twinge in his side.

He hears Luis’ squawking laughter.

“Dude, I think you need this more than he does," Luis says, and André wipes his eyes to see that his teammate his holding the gourd out to him. A thermos has appeared out of nowhere, Luis having apparently just poured some more hot water to make more mate for Leo.

Because *that* was what Leo what wanted.

“Debatable,” Leo mutters, though he smiles at André and waves a hand for him to take a sip.

André doesn’t particularly like mate, but he sucks down a bit, trying to catch his breath. His face is still red, though now it’s more from nearly choking to death on his spit as opposed to embarrassment.

Well, okay, it’s a combination of both.

“Now you’ll really have to wait a bit longer,” Luis says in fake sadness, slinging an arm around Leo’s bare shoulders. “Poor baby,” he says again. “I hope you survive.”

Leo sticks his tongue out and then leans into Luis’ body. “Shut it. Why is training so early, anyway?” he whines, hiding his face in Luis’ neck.

André watches them both, fascinated, swallowing some of the bitter drink absentmindedly. Because, okay, he realizes now that Leo was talking about the mate and not… getting fucked… But still. The two of them are very touchy feely.

And Luis is fully clothed while Leo is only wearing briefs.

“You won’t be complaining once we’re out there,” Luis says smiling, adjusting his hold on Leo. “It’ll be good to get back into the rhythm of things, don’t you think?” He leans his head against Leo’s, nudging him gently. He doesn’t quite press a kiss to Leo’s hair, but it looks like he could at any moment.

Leo makes a sound of agreement. “Yes,” he says sulkily, revealing his face once more. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s frowning, lines of tension appearing on his forehead. “It’ll make almost everyone happy, won’t it.”

Luis flicks his eyes over and André and gives him a warning glance.

André freezes, not understanding. And then, as Luis points a thumb up towards the picture of the Argentina national team in Leo’s locker, he does.

“Well, it’d make me happy,” Luis says, nudging Leo’s head again and making him sit up, “if you got dressed before you catch a chill.”

Leo blinks at him. “‘Catch a chill?’” he repeats. “What are you eighty years old, now?” But he smiles and starts getting dressed. “‘Catch a chill,’” he repeats, seeming amused, pulling the practice clothes on quickly.

Luis laughs and extends his hand when André starts making slurping noises. “Give that here,” he says, tilting his head towards Leo. “Somebody is very cranky. And we need to fix that as soon as possible.”

André smiles then, too. His earlier embarrassment forgotten. He hands over the gourd and returns to putting his boots on.

He doesn’t think of it again.

Until Piqué slaps Leo’s ass ten minutes later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short, but that's kinda how I want this story to be. I'm still getting a feel for Gomes, don't know him too well yet. Of course his love for Leo is obvious, so that's helping a lot :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piqué slaps Leo’s ass like it’s normal.
> 
> André bites his tongue. Maybe it is normal. Sometimes teammates do that.
> 
> Except then Piqué walks up behind Leo and pulls him into his body, hands sliding down to grip Leo’s hips. And *then* he starts to nose around in Leo’s hair, dragging his lips down the side of Leo’s head until he gets to Leo’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like!

Piqué slaps Leo’s ass like it’s normal.

André bites his tongue. Maybe it is normal. Sometimes teammates do that.

Except then Piqué walks up behind Leo and pulls him into his body, hands sliding down to grip Leo’s hips. And *then* he starts to nose around in Leo’s hair, dragging his lips down the side of Leo’s head until he gets to Leo’s ears. 

Leo barely even stops his conversation with Neymar to acknowledge it. In fact, it’s not until Piqué begins to whisper something with great enthusiasm, his tongue practically in Leo’s ear, that Leo starts laughing and wiggles free.

Piqué grins, delighted with himself, and blows a kiss at Leo, who has darted over to the protection of Neymar’s embrace. 

André watches, again struck by how touchy-feely people seem to be with Leo. Or rather, how touchy-feely *Leo* seems to be with people. It doesn’t match the Lionel Messi he thought he knew. Sure, Leo was friendly with his teammates and he was equally friendly with André from the minute they’d met. 

But now, now that Pepe has planted the idea that Leo’s been sleeping around…

André is looking at him with new eyes.

He’s wondering what every touch means. Every casual arm around the waist, every hug, every kiss, every smile… Is it just Leo being friendly with his teammates? Or is it Leo being friendly with his… lovers?

While André is contemplating that, and watching as Leo starts to warm up with Piqué, Neymar, and Luis, Arda kicks a ball in his direction. “Come on,” Arda says, rubbing his hands together. “You a little hungover from break?”

André laughs and shakes his head, dribbling the ball back to Arda so that they can start warming up themselves. The truth is that he wants to ask Arda about whether or not he and Leo ever fooled around, but every time he looks at his teammate, he feels too nervous to say anything. Arda is very proper, and the last thing André wants to do is offend him.

So André focuses on warming up instead. And then it’s time for the rondo, and André has to really focus on making his passes count.

And then...

The thing is, it's not that André *plans* on slapping Leo's ass.

But they're all playing around, having fun, and then Neymar and Luis and Leo get caught in the rondo and everyone starts screaming because it’s MSN and the trident and they need to get them. And they do and it’s fantastic! And André runs over to Luis and Leo on the ground, tugging at Leo's shirt in excitement, unable to stop laughing. 

And Leo is laughing back, utterly carefree, squirming away. He rolls around on the ground, giggling, muttering how it was all Luis' fault.

And André doesn't mean to.

But his hand has a mind of its own. Before he knows it, he's bringing it down on Leo's cushy ass. He spins to Luis as soon as he realizes what he's doing. And nobody makes a big deal about it, but later he sees the pictures and the video, and he can't believe what he did. 

Hours pass, and he still can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop wondering if he needs to say something.

"So you think I need to apologize to Leo?" André asks Neymar at the training session later that night. Things have calmed down and the two of them are jogging around the field to cool down. 

"For what?" Ney asks, grinning sunnily. He's always in a good mood, eager to answer any of André's questions about the city or their teammates. 

And it puts André at ease. It really does. It makes him wonder if maybe he can ask Neymar about Leo…

André thinks about it, immediately embarrassed about the words that are about to come out of his mouth. He clears his throat. "I kinda—er—spanked Leo, there, when you guys got stuck in the rondo." He looks straight ahead, keeping his gaze focused on the fence at the end of the pitch, not wanting to see Neymar's expression.

Of course, then, Ney stops running to laugh hysterically, and André stops running to walk beside him. 

They were almost finished anyway. 

“I saw," Ney says, shaking his head. "His ass can take it, if you know what I mean." He winks, doing a little shimmy with his hips and then holds his hands out like he's grabbing something. "He's fine, I promise.“

André stops walking. Because Neymar is either pretending to grab Leo’s ass, or his dance moves just really suck.

"Are you saying, that you...?" André says, coming short of just saying what he thinks Neymar is saying. Neymar is rather new to the team, like Luis, and is always praising Leo to the press... "You and Leo?"

Ney grins, tongue touching the tips of his teeth. “Huh, I just meant his ass is pretty big,” he explains, raising an eyebrow. “A lot of padding,” he says laughing.

André scratches his head and nods. “Oh, okay,” he says, desperately thinking of a way to change the subject.

“Would it have been so bad, though?” Ney asks hesitantly. “If I had?” His smile changes into something a little smaller, a twist of the lips as if he’s not sure how André will react. “With Leo?”

André pauses. “No?” he says, though it seems to come out more like a question than a statement. Neymar looks away from him and André scrambles to reassure him. “I mean, it wouldn’t bother me,” he explains, “wouldn’t be bad.” He reaches out to touch Neymar’s wrist. “I just meant, from what I heard, I thought you guys might have."

Neymar turns back to him, judging his sincerity.

“Well,” he says, tilting his head. “Then, yeah, me and Leo,” he says bluntly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“You’re together, then?” André asks, a little part of him still surprised. He guesses he shouldn’t be, not with what Pepe said, and then with the way he’s seen Leo acting with Luis and Piqué…

“Oh,” Ney says, uncrossing his arms. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “We aren’t in a relationship. We’re not even doing anything right now, anyways. It was just a couple of times… When we both needed it, you know?”

André doesn’t really know, but he nods anyway.

“So Leo’s single, then?” André asks, scuffing his spikes against some of the grass, trying to be subtle.

Neymar’s back to his bouncy self, distracted by some of the shouting in the distance. “What? Oh, I don’t know,” he peers over at where Ivan and Andrés are talking to Luis. “He probably is right now,” Neymar says, starting to jog again. “We weren't really together like that, it was more of a comfort thing. You know? Like how he's been with Marc-André and Masche.”

André matches his pace. “Wait, Marc-André and Masche?? So he’s actually been with all of you?” he blurts out, sounding scandalized.

Neymar turns and gives him a weird look. “I named two people,” he says, sounding offended. “What do you care?” He looks strangely at André. “And keep that to yourself, okay? It’s not really your business, is it?” 

Then he lopes off, leaving André gaping after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Is Leo getting around?? Or is André way off base??

**Author's Note:**

> Gomessi is a thing. Please. Take note.


End file.
